


Five Times The Winter System Experienced A Meltdown (And One Time They Felt Safe)

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [44]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableism, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autism Spectrum, Blood, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Creepy Alexander Pierce, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Alexander Pierce, Fisting, Graphic Description, HYDRA Trash Party, Hiding, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Bucky Barnes, M/M, Meltdown, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, On the Run, Other, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Pre-War, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sensory Overload, Spanking, Torture, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: "NO! I WANNA GO HOME!" James barked, balling up his fists. The air was hot and muggy and the noise of people shouting to one another and walking on the uneven road were making his ears ring and his blood boil. He felt far too warm and dizzy and every brush of someone walking past him felt like a match strike, like he was about to burst into flames at any moment."BUCKY! WE JUS' GOT HERE!" Steve barked back, stamping his foot on the ground before grabbing his wrist again. "I WANNA-"James didn't mean to shove Steve to the ground. Nor did he mean to scream his lungs out loud enough to scare the birds out of the sky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Alexander Pierce, James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Winter System [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 23
Kudos: 133





	1. 1929

**Author's Note:**

> This story features depictions of corporal punishment, child abuse, spanking, and humiliation.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

James was all of twelve years old as he stood in the middle of the awfully busy market. He _knew_ he shouldn't have let Steve and his Ma talk him into going to such a place. He kept having to squirm and tuck and side-step to avoid bumping into the crowds of people that bustled all around them. The two had long since lost their chaperone, and it was starting to make something stir in his chest, something that felt scary yet all too familiar.

"Bucky! Look!" Steve's toothy grin caught his attention, bright and missing a tooth from where Jim down the block punched Steve's lights out not two weeks ago. He didn't quite understand the flip-floppy, nervous feeling in his belly when Steve smiled at him, but he knew he liked it.

"Wha's it?" James asked, stepping closer to his scrawny best friend. The two were standing in front of a cart, chock full of fruits that he barely recognized. He stared at the strange red and green fruit that Steve lifted in his disproportionately large hands.

"'S called a 'dragon-fruit'! Think your Ma will let us get it?" Steve asked, eyes sparkling brighter than the summer sun. James felt the air leave his lungs, though he wasn't quite sure why.

After regaining his ability to think, he turned to look at the cart of strange fruits. "Aw geez, ten cents?" He huffed. "Tha's a rip."

"Kid, you don't know what'cher talking about. These things come from far away lands, they're worth every penny!" The cart runner huffed, holding his cigarette with his thumb and index finger, pointing the bad smelling stick towards the two of them. James instinctively put his hand out in front of his friend, pushing him behind him and away from the dangers of smoke. He had seen his best friend struggle to breathe far too many times, watching him gasp like a fish out of water, knowing that he could take his last desperate breath at any given moment.

"Don' let this chump fool ya, kids." A gruff voice said, and James lurched as he felt a large, unwelcome hand on his shoulder. "This twit's nuts, those things come from Mexico, I've got them for two cents a pop there. This fella's all wet, don't waste y'er money."

"Hey why don'cha mind y'er damn business, pal?" The cart runner barked, making James nearly jump out of his skin. "Listen, kid. You ain't gonna find anything like these for a thousand miles. You look like a fine, young fella. You dizzy for a dame? She'd love one'a these as a present from her man."

"Uhh..." James felt his face turn bright red. Was he _supposed_ to like a girl? Sure, some girls looked kinda pretty, but none of them ever really made him hear wedding bells. He felt Steve's bony fingers grab his wrist.

"C'mon, Bucky, I don't wanna deal with cheats." Steve huffed, setting the strange fruit back on the cart before dragging him off through the crowd, the two men shouting behind them.

"Steve, can we go find my Ma?" James asked, almost desperate. "I wanna get outta here."

"No, Buck! We jus' got here!" Steve huffed, weaving his way through the crowded street, leaving James to try and keep up without running into anyone. Sometimes that scrawny little egg forgot that James was a good six inches taller than him, and wasn't exactly able to fit through the tiny gaps he could. That left him scrambling to duck under people's arms and whimpering out apologies for stepping on people's toes as they made their way through.

"Steve, c'mon. I _really_ wanna get out of here." James huffed, tugging his wrist away from the kid's grasp.

"Bucky, we _never_ get to come to the markets. I wanna find my Ma something nice." Steve huffed, turning around to face him, eyes burning with determination. He chalked up the sudden, lurching feeling in his chest to the nervous, bubbling feeling in his veins.

Though the feeling in his chest didn't feel _nearly_ as bad.

"Steve. I wanna go home." James huffed, stopping in the middle of the street. He yelped as a man brushed past him, knocking him out of his way without even a pardon.

Steve's face twisted into some mixture of disappointment and anger. "Bucky, we-"

"NO! I WANNA GO HOME!" James barked, balling up his fists. The air was hot and muggy and the noise of people shouting to one another and walking on the uneven road were making his ears ring and his blood boil. He felt far too warm and dizzy and every brush of someone walking past him felt like a match strike, like he was about to burst into flames at any moment.

"BUCKY! WE JUS' GOT HERE!" Steve barked back, stamping his foot on the ground before grabbing his wrist again. "I WANNA-"

James didn't mean to shove Steve to the ground. Nor did he mean to scream his lungs out loud enough to scare the birds out of the sky.

" **STOP TOUCHING ME! I WANNA GO HOME _NOW!_** " James shrieked, his body suddenly far too heavy to stand under his own weight. He felt himself crumple to the ground, his hands slamming hard against the cobblestone, the painful tear of stone scraping his skin only adding to the 'too much' feeling in his body.

"Bucky, stop! You're hurting yourself!" Steve yelped, trying to grab his wrists yet again. James _really_ didn't mean to slap his best friend across the face, sending him stumbling backwards.

" **STOP! GO'WAY!** " James felt like he wasn't in control of anything, his hands finding their way to the top of his own head and yanking at his locks, his legs kicking against the ground hard enough to bruise his heels through his shoes, his voice escaping his chest in loud, strangled cries.

" _JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!_ " An all too familiar, woman's voice barked.

Oh no.

James tried desperately to blubber out a semblance of an apology, only succeeding in screeching louder as his Ma yanked him off of the ground by his arm. He felt like his entire being was on fire, he could feel so many eyes raking over his skin, the grip of his Ma's angry hands only adding to the awful, clawing sensation. "NO! _NO!_ " He cried out as his Ma pinned him to her side, her hand tugging down the waistband of his pants, her palm smacking hard against his back-side with ten quick, unforgiving swats. His shrill cries dissolved into desperate, sobbing wails, his body trying desperately to squirm away against his will.

"JAMES BARNES, YOU ARE MAKING A SCENE!" His Ma snapped, her hand moving to smack against the back of his head before returning to his bottom, continuing the ruthless strikes. He bit down against a shrill cry, trying desperately to be good, but his body refused to cooperate. "STOP THIS BEHAVIOR THIS INSTANT! YOU'RE NOT FOUR! TWELVE YEAR OLD BOYS DON'T THROW _TANTRUMS!_ "

James couldn't help the hiccuping sobs that escaped his chest, his body refusing to cease its senseless squirming, like a worm trying to crawl away from a fisherman's hook. Each pitiful attempt at escape only succeeded in earning more swats to his awfully sore butt-cheeks. He could hear his Ma growl in frustration, her hand smacking against the back of his head once again. His body finally managed to cooperate after that, only trembling in her arms as her hand swat his bottom a few more times, the skin angry red and burning something terrible.

"Just wait until your father hears about this!" His Ma huffed, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him back towards the front of the market, not even bothering to help pull his pants up, letting the humiliation serve as its own punishment. "Steven, I'm terribly sorry for James's awful behavior. I'll walk you home after I drop him off. His father will be able to sort him out."

James couldn't look at Steve's face, the feeling of hands and eyes on him making his insides clench up.

"O-okay, Mrs. Barnes..." Steve mumbled out, following behind James as he was dragged by the wrist all the way back to his apartment. His Ma left him to sit by the door as she walked his best friend back home, but not before letting his father know about just how bad he was in front of so many people.

The swats to his bottom were nothing compared to his dad's large, calloused hands. They were about as forgiving as oak planks.

James sat on the fire escape of his building, his bottom burning and uncomfortable against the fabric of his pants, the tears never quite leaving his eyes as he stared out to the sun setting through the buildings. He was startled from his empty thoughts by a rock hitting the metal bars of the stairs. He looked down, spotting an all too familiar face. "Wha'do _you_ want?" He huffed, making his way down the flight of stairs, his burning skin rubbing uncomfortably against his clothes with each step.

"I'm, uh," Steve winced, catching his face in the setting sunlight. "Geez, Bucky. Your Pa did that?" His bony hand carefully reached out towards his bruised eye and swollen cheek. James pulled his head back, glaring at his best friend.

"'S nothing." James huffed, turning his head to try and hide the shameful display of his weakness. He whimpered a little as a soft, bony hand carefully cupped his cheek, expecting another slap to the painful skin as payback for embarrassing him in front of the whole world.

"I'm sorry, Bucky..." Steve mumbled, carefully leaning up on his toes before pressing a soft, comforting kiss to his swollen cheek. "Ma always does that for my bruises, helps 'em feel better."

James's face felt as red as his burning backside, though not nearly as painful. "Uh, thanks, Stevie."

The painful feelings in his body were nothing compared to the warmth that spread through his chest as Steve smiled at him, toothy and bright.

"Oh, and I brought you this, as a sorry." Steve held up a bright pink peach in his hand. "Ma had some left over from her pie, and I figured..."

"Thank you, Steve." James smiled, stunted by the painful, swollen feeling in his cheek, before taking the peach into his hands. He didn't exactly mind the way the other's hand felt as his fingers brushed against his skin for a little longer than necessary. He carefully tore the peach into two halves, pulling the pit out of the larger half before handing it to his friend.

The two sat, side by side, as they watched the sun set over Brooklyn.


	2. 1939

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two girls sneered at him like he just insulted their grandmothers, which made Bucky's blood boil that much hotter. How _dare_ they look at Steve like that? Steve was more of a catch than _either_ of them! If he could walk out of that building with his best friend on his arm, he damn well would've.
> 
> "Don't listen to this crumb, Ruth," _That_ was her name, Ruth. "That gunsel's probably try'na take James out back to get on his knees for him." Ruth's friend huffed.
> 
> Bucky saw red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features period-typical homophobia and internalized ableism.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

Bucky huffed as his date- some girl he had picked up, along with her friend- stroked her fingers over his hand on the table.

"James? What's wrong?" The girl- what was her name? Rosa? Rachael?- asked.

"'S nothing." He sighed, smiling towards her the best he could, trying to focus on her eyes while trying to make sure he smiled enough to not seem angry.

He wasn't sure what started it: the loud music of the band in the corner of the room, or the overwhelming scent of perfume and giggle-juice that made his sinuses burn. All he knew is he could feel that boiling, burning pressure in his veins that told him something was wrong and he was being spread thin. The feeling that reminded him far too much of his father's fists, his mother's hands, the eyes of strangers raking over his skin.

He felt Steve's eyes on him, sitting beside Rachael-or-Whatever's friend who obviously wasn't into him. She didn't know what the hell she was missing. If he were a dame, he'd be _all over_ Steve in a heartbeat.

Well, he already was, but no one needed to know that outside of the sanctuary of their apartment.

"I think he's just tired. He was up pretty early at the docks." Steve piped up. Bucky was thankful for the quick save, his brain unable to catch up with his body to form even a single coherent sentence.

"Mhm. Tired." He bit out, rubbing his aching head with his hands.

"Here, this'll help." Rachael-or-Whatever smiled, sliding him a glass of gin. He could feel his stomach twist at the smell of alcohol.

"Thanks." He grumbled, trying to keep up appearance. He lifted the glass to his lips, wincing as the burning liquid invaded his mouth. He gulped down the offending substance with a huff, setting the now empty glass down on the table. He could feel the liquid sit heavy in his belly, only adding to the 'too much' feeling thrumming through his guts. He mindlessly tapped his fingers against the table, trying to find _anything_ to soothe his frayed nerves.

"Well, it's been lovely," Steve piped up, scooting his chair away from the table before standing up. "But it's getting pretty late. We're gonna get a wiggle on if you don't mind."

The two girls sneered at him like he just insulted their grandmothers, which made Bucky's blood boil that much hotter. How _dare_ they look at Steve like that? Steve was more of a catch than _either_ of them! If he could walk out of that building with his best friend on his arm, he damn well would've.

"Don't listen to this crumb, Ruth," _That_ was her name, Ruth. "That gunsel's probably try'na take James out back to get on his knees for him." Ruth's friend huffed.

Bucky saw red.

"You show Rogers the respect he deserves!" Bucky didn't mean to bark, but the negative attitude of the girls mixed with the overwhelmingly loud music and thrum of people dancing on the floor was really getting to him. "Either of you'd be _lucky_ to have him!"

Ruth's friend rolled her eyes. "Whatever. C'mon, Ruth. Lets leave before this twit starts getting sweet on his _dame._ "

Bucky clenched his jaw so hard he _swore_ he felt his teeth crack.

"Don't listen to them, Buck." Steve sighed, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Bucky didn't mean to smack his hand away, nor did he mean to hit his fist so hard against the table.

He felt like he couldn't breathe.

Bucky could feel Steve's eyes on him, making his skin prickle. "Bucky? Do you wanna-"

Bucky whined as his hands found their way into his hair, tugging hard at the short locks. He let his elbows slam hard into the table top, his leg bouncing on the ground like it had a mind of it's own. He couldn't help the tremble in his shoulders, the way his skin felt like it was on fire, like he was trying to breathe through smoke. "Don' touch me." He bit out, feeling Steve's hands hovering over his shoulders.

"Here, Buck, lets get you home, okay?" Steve's voice was soft, quiet, as he carefully stepped away from the table. Bucky wanted to follow him, to escape the awful, echoing room, but his body refused to cooperate. He whined louder as a particularly loud note made his ears nearly pop. He felt like he was about to explode.

He couldn't help the way his body froze up, instinctively expecting a slap across the face or to be pulled over his father's knee. The fuzzy thoughts only succeeded in making him even _more_ upset, tears leaking from his eyes as he tried to will his frozen, trembling body to move.

"Buck, I'm going to hold your hand, okay?" Steve asked. He felt bony fingertips graze against the oversensitive skin of his knuckles.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Bucky screamed. He felt like he was watching himself from the other side of the room, like he was on the silver screen for the world to see. He could feel eyes on him, watching this invalid make a scene in the middle of the gin-mill. He felt like he wasn't in control of his body as his palms slapped hard against his head.

"Hey, pal. Get'cher friend out of here." Bucky could hear a gruff voice huff, making his blood spike in fear.

"I'm sorry, sir, he's just had a bit too much. C'mon, Buck." Steve's bony fingers wrapped around his wrist, trying to tug him out of the seat. He couldn't move, save for his leg still bouncing.

"That's it, let's go. Out!" The man barked, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him out of the chair. He couldn't help the panicked shriek that escaped his chest, his blood curdling in his veins as he was dragged out of the building and tossed onto the sidewalk, his knees hitting the concrete hard.

Steve was at his side, carefully helping him up, where he proceeded to crash back-first into a wall, the rough bricks scraping against his burning skin. He struggled away from the offensive feelings, curling up in the alleyways.

"Buck, I'm gonna get a cab, okay? You stay right here." Steve mumbled as he walked away.

He couldn't remember getting into a cab, nor could he remember getting back to their apartment. All he knew was that, when his brain finally caught up with him, his head was pounding and he was curled up on the couch, Steve sitting at the table to give him some space.

"Steve..." Bucky mumbled, sniffling back against tears that he hadn't realized he shed. Steve looked up towards him, their eyes locking for a painful second. Bucky tucked his head, trying to ignore the shock in his spine.

"You okay, Bucky? That was a pretty bad one..." Steve sighed, walking over and plopping himself on the couch. Bucky curled up next to him like a pathetic puppy.

"'M sorry..." He sighed, leaning his head on the man's shoulder. "I-I don't know why that happens. It just- everything just- it's _too much._ Like I'm drowning in sounds and feelings. It makes no sense."

"It's okay, Buck. You're safe here." Steve hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He didn't _feel_ safe, but being in his best man's arms was better than nothing.


	3. 1962

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was stuck in a frozen field in the middle of Siberia, dropped in the closed off location without food, water, or shelter. His mission? Survive.
> 
> His 'teammates' were instructed to hunt him down. He was instructed to survive _at all costs_. He had already picked off three men who had left themselves wide open when charging for him, and another that stupidly used a laser guide when trying to snipe him from a tree. With four men eliminated, he only had two left to hide from.
> 
> That had been at least four days ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features graphic depictions of violence, implied cannibalism, and ableism/ableist language.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

The Soldier was exhausted.

This training mission had gone on for weeks- or maybe months? Years? He couldn't tell anymore- leaving him stuck with handlers and 'teammates' that saw him as nothing more than a target.

He was stuck in a frozen field in the middle of Siberia, dropped in the closed off location without food, water, or shelter. His mission? Survive.

His 'teammates' were instructed to hunt him down. He was instructed to survive _at all costs_. He had already picked off three men who had left themselves wide open when charging for him, and another that stupidly used a laser guide when trying to snipe him from a tree. With four men eliminated, he only had two left to hide from.

That had been at least four days ago.

The Soldier was _exhausted._ He did his best to find food and water, using the now frozen corpses of his 'teammates' as a means to keep himself alive. He couldn't help the shutter in his body every time he bit into the flesh, his new implanted teeth still so sensitive. He knew better than to try and eat the snow surrounding him for water, as that would only result in hypothermia. He felt himself routinely slipping into unconsciousness, the sub-zero temperatures reminding him far too much of the little bit of rest he was allowed when the seasons began to change.

When did they start freezing him?

Truthfully, he couldn't remember much. He could remember his handlers, and a man with glasses. But other than that? All he could really gather was a deep, instinctive fear of failure, of punishment. Everything else felt like it was on autopilot, like the ability to fight and survive were programmed directly into his muscles. They probably were, he assumed. Hydra had created him, he wasn't born the way humans were. He was forged through scientific advancements and a drive to make the world into something good, something it had never been.

He didn't understand 'good', only 'not failure'.

Despite all he knew, he still had vague, fuzzy, confusing thoughts that left a stirring feeling in his chest. A hand striking against his body, bony fingers touching his cheek, something wet pressed against his skin. Perhaps they were training missions he had long since forgotten?

He was dragged from his thoughts by the sound of rustling nearby. He honed in on the sound, his body turning as solid and frigid as the air around him. He felt as if he stayed awake any longer, his body would burst into flames.

He heard a gun click, followed by an earth-shattering **BANG** that echoed though the air.

His teeth were in the man's throat before he had time to check his aim. One more down. One more to go.

That didn't stop his head from pounding, the sound of rushing air around him setting every single nerve ending ablaze.

He kicked at the now bloody snow beneath him, trying desperately to relieve the mounting frustration in his chest.

Too much.

He kicked harder at the slush, his soaked boots sending snow flying in every direction. The movements did nothing to satisfy the anger burning in his chest. He froze as his boot hit something solid and unforgiving, the pain that shot up his spine pouring gasoline on the overwhelming inferno.

The Soldier fell backward into the snow, screaming out into the frigid air, watching as birds that had just settled panicked as they fluttered into the grey sky. He couldn't care less if the screams gave away his position, his limbs flailing into the slush beneath him. Every strike against the mush just pressed cold, wet snow into his already soaked clothing, leaving him more and more irritated by the second.

There was a flaw in his code. His anger just kept building.

He couldn't help himself as another shriek escaped his chest, clawing its way up his throat. He felt marginally better when he screamed, the hoarse ache in his throat seemingly smothering the flame in his chest. He felt the snow give way beneath his metal hand, slamming down into the mush of dirt below, splattering freezing mud onto his face. His head throbbed as he kicked his legs in unrestrained frustration, his flesh hand wiping away the dirt with more force than necessary, successfully striking himself on his head. He felt a little better, the dull thud of his gloved hand hitting the skin pulled tight over bone. He felt his fingers squirm through his hair, yanking his own head down and ripping strands of hair from his scalp. He curled up on himself, pulling tighter and tighter at his own head as his heels kicked harder and harder into the holes they had formed in the mud.

" _SOLDAT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!_ " A voice, Russian, barked. His handler had found him, watching him throw a tantrum like a petulant child in the middle of the clearing.

How did he know what childish tantrums looked like? How did he know what a tantrum _was?_ He hadn't seen human children for longer than a few seconds at a time.

He screamed at the handler, unable to will his body into cooperating with him anymore. He felt like a cornered animal, shrieking and crying as it was backed into a cage.

He was being disobedient and couldn't make himself stop.

It took three handlers and the last remaining 'teammate' to restrain him, pinning him to the frigid slush below. He flailed in a desperate bid to escape the men's grasps, snarling and crying out, his own echoes only serving to claw at his frayed nerves.

" _SPUTNIK!_ " One of the men barked.

He didn't even feel himself slip into unconsciousness.

The Soldier awoke to the familiar scent of ozone and burnt hair, his head throbbing as his body slumped forward, useless. He couldn't help the twitch in his jaw, his limbs, as the residual electricity clawed at the inside of his skull.

" _Good morning, Soldier. Mein liebeling._ " A man's voice, German, or maybe Swiss, piped up. He tried to make his eyes focus on the location of the voice, gulping down shuttering gasps for air as his brain throbbed. " _I understand you failed your most recent training mission? That you let the sensory of your surroundings get the best of you?_ "

He tucked his head, awaiting the impending punishment.

" _What a shame. I knew there was something different about your brain. I was hoping the new programming would be able to correct such a flaw._ " The man in the glasses sighed, his voice heavy with disappointment. The Soldier curled in on himself the best he could, the feeling of failure stabbing worse than any physical strike against his body. " _It seems even Hydra's finest scientific advancements cannot fix god's mistakes._ "

He felt bad. He didn't understand _why._

The Soldier was _exhausted._


	4. 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to Hydra, 'look pretty' meant wearing nothing but his muzzle, a pair of black mesh lace panties that put his genitals on display, and a black lace collar with a bell to match. He hated the items the moment they were slipped onto his body, the mesh and lace tickling and scratching against his skin, the texture driving him up the wall and sending chills up his spine with every step he took.
> 
> He would've preferred being naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features graphic rape/non-con, fisting, blood, and referenced child abuse.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

The lace rubbing against his skin was _unbearable._

The Soldier was the 'guest of honor' at one of his Master's many large, extravagant parties. Thankfully, he was requested to follow his Master and 'look pretty'.

According to Hydra, 'look pretty' meant wearing nothing but his muzzle, a pair of black mesh lace panties that put his genitals on display, and a black lace collar with a bell to match. He hated the items the moment they were slipped onto his body, the mesh and lace tickling and scratching against his skin, the texture driving him up the wall and sending chills up his spine with every step he took.

He would've preferred being naked.

He had suffered the past four hours, being pushed over tables and pressed against walls as special guests were allowed to have their way with them. He thought, foolishly, that the activities would allow him to take the hellish garment from off his body. Instead, his Master easily tore a hole in the back side of the fabric, allowing easy access to the party-goers while he was forced to feel the horrible textures cling tight to his half-hard dick. He could feel his balls retract back into his body every time someone teasingly felt him up through the fabric as he stood beside his Master.

Even worse still, was the incessant ringing and jingling of the bell every time he moved. He was forced to listen to that shrill, awful noise every time someone thrusted into him, every time his Master pulled at the chain connected to the collar to make him move. That, on top of the loud bustle of music and party goers, left his head pounding.

The Soldier huffed as a familiar figure pushed him against the wall.

"Now now, commander." Master's voice tutted playfully. "You know not to play too rough with my doll, don't you?"

"I know, sir. I wont hurt him." The Commander hummed, earning a soft chuckle from his Master. What was funny? Was there a joke? Was he supposed to laugh? He could barely hear anything over the buzz of humans and the awful textures rubbing against his skin that felt like he dragged his nails down a car door every time he was jostled.

"That's what I expected. Happy New Year, Commander." Master's voice hummed, light and relaxed. It grated against his horribly frayed nerves.

He bit his lip behind his muzzle as he felt the familiar blunt pressure of his commander's cock press against his hole. He had already been used by his Master and five other guests, leaving his hole loose and pliant, no matter how much the uncomfortable, burning stretch and filling pressure hurt him.

Weapons do not feel pain. Weapons do not have preferences.

He groaned involuntarily as the Commander's cock slipped inside of him, his own half-hard dick caught between the wall, his belly, and the horrid fabric that felt the way a fork rubbing against a plate sounded.

"Fuck, look at you, already broken in and ruined. Ain't even warm." The Commander's voice huffed. That, seemingly, didn't stop him from filling up his insides, leaving nothing but an uncomfortable, nauseating pressure that felt more like he had to defecate than anything else. He growled in response, earning a rough hand gripping the hair at the back of his head, yanking his head far enough back to see the man's face in the corner of his eye. "Don't go mouthing off to me, _brat_. You're the little slut that's letting _everyone_ here use your sloppy cunt."

The Soldier couldn't focus on the man's words, his head throbbing as the sensations around him clawed at the inside of his skull, every little noise and light and texture serving as kindle to the burning in his chest. He clawed desperately at the wall as the man behind him fucked into him harder and harder, his cock nudging against something inside of him that made him nearly puke stomach acid into his muzzle. He almost felt relieved when he heard the man's quiet grunts, knowing all too well that he was close to finishing.

Those hopes of relief were dashed the second he felt hot, sticky semen dribble and spurt onto his backside, soaking into the ruined mesh fabric, making the fabric feel like needles pricking into his skin.

He snarled as a new man walked closer, the footsteps echoing the pulse that was pounding in his ears, like a drum in his head.

He didn't mean to slam his metal fist into the man's face, knocking him to the floor in an unconscious- and likely dead- heap.

He shrieked as his Master yanked at the chain, a hand carding through his hair before slamming his head onto a nearby table. "Oh, pet." Master's calm, disappointed voice huffed, making his spine bristle.

He did bad.

"Sorry." He gasped behind his muzzle, trying to shove down the screams that clawed at his throat, the burning in his chest now a roaring wildfire that he tried desperately to smother. " _I-I'm sorry!_ "

His screams finally escaped him as his Master's hand slapped hard against his backside, rubbing the horrid fabric against his burning skin, his free hand gripping the back of his neck to pin his body to the table.

"You've embarrassed me in front of my guests. What an awful brat." Master's voice was so calm, so sturdy and unwavering, as his hand smacked against his flesh in a brutal, unrelenting rhythm. He couldn't smother the wails that escaped him like vomit, his hands slamming against the table on their own. "What a bad dog." Master tutted. "Commander Rumlow, Agent Rollins. Hold his hands still. He needs to learn that his misbehavior will not be tolerated."

The Soldier screamed, his voice cracking up three octaves, as he felt hands wrap around his wrists, leaving him writhing and squirming against the table like a lab rat trying to escape a syringe. His brain went offline, his body only able to recognize the painful, overwhelming strikes against his skin through the mesh and lace, the bell's shrill cry echoing each painful smack.

He wanted to cry out for his Mama to save him from his Daddy's wrath. He didn't have a Mama.

He hiccuped on a sob as his Master's hand finally ceased its assault. He could feel hot, sticky blood from torn skin seeping into the mesh fabric, sticking horribly to his red, raw flesh. He grunted out a cry as his Master's fingers plunged inside of him, four without any hesitation, his body unable to even _attempt_ clenching around the invading digits.

"What an awful brat, spoiling everyone's fun because he couldn't get his way." Master huffed, his voice dripping with disappointment and regret. The Soldier squealed as a fifth finger squirmed into his hole, the feeling of knuckles pressing against his rim burning a hole into what little soul he had left. He groaned as the fingers were removed and replaced with a large, blunt pressure.

"Pl'ees, I-I'll be good. I'll be _good!_ " He sobbed, his voice high and breaking with each shuttering gasp for air. He felt _terrified,_ like his body was so much smaller than the world closing in around him, like the pressure pressing into his body would tear him in half.

"Manipulative behavior will only add to your punishment." Daddy huffed, smacking him on the back of his head. He laid as still as he could, his body trembling and wracked with sobs, as the man's closed fist slipped inside of him with a painful, sickening 'pop'.

He coughed, a sobbing scream getting caught in his throat, as the clenched hand rutted in and out of his insides, squirming and pressing like he was trying to fist-fight his stomach.

"There we go, that's better, isn't it pet?" Daddy cooed, his fist rubbing painfully inside of his organs. "No more screaming, no more manipulative tears. Are you sorry, Soldier?"

" _Sorry._ " He gasped on the Soldier's behalf, feeling _nothing_ like the Soldier. He knew if he begged for forgiveness from his Daddy, that he'd be beat to a pulp and made to sit in the chair _forever._ He was Daddy's special little secret, no one was allowed to see him or play special grown up games with him, _especially_ not his fancy party guests. "I'm _sorry._ I-I'll be _good_."

He bit back a pained sob as the overwhelming, painful pressure left his body, leaving his bottom feeling horribly sore his tummy rolling in his guts.

"That's better. Don't you feel better after admitting you did wrong?" Daddy's voice hummed. "Now be nice to my guests, pet."

He bit back a whimper as he felt new hands rub against his raw, trembling skin, the buzz of noise and rub of textures around him far too much.

The wildfire roared on in deafening silence, ignored by the world.


	5. 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was hiding out in some Southern European country after a last minute plane ride and a fucked over bus ticket left him stranded in the middle of a small town. He had been on the run for a little less than a year, and was doing a pretty good job of laying low and sneaking out when necessary. He never really had time to settle down and take stock of his condition, far too focused on avoiding capture at any given turn. One slip up and he's back in the slimy tentacles of Hydra. He shuttered at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features self harm, implied prostitution, references to physical and sexual abuse, traumatized reactions towards emotions and feelings, dissociation, derealization, and paranoia.
> 
> Reader Discretion is advised.

He had to get out of here.

_He had to get out of here._

Bucky was hiding out in some Southern European country after a last minute plane ride and a fucked over bus ticket left him stranded in the middle of a small town. He had been on the run for a little less than a year, and was doing a pretty good job of laying low and sneaking out when necessary. He never really had time to settle down and take stock of his condition, far too focused on avoiding capture at any given turn. One slip up and he's back in the slimy tentacles of Hydra. He shuttered at the thought.

He expected his time in the town to be short, a quick detour to throw off his trail before finding his way back to the U.S. and hiding out there. He thought he hit a lucky break when a cruise liner docked in port in the neighboring city, finding that the ship was making round-about vacation trips to and from his destination.

Disguise himself as a regular tourist and play vacation while making his way back across the Atlantic ocean. Not too hard, right? That would be a cakewalk of a mission.

Or so he thought.

His first problem was getting onto the ship at all, as constantly running from Hydra didn't exactly pay well, and his last bit of emergency money had been spent on that damn bus that left him there in the first place. Worse off, if he got caught sneaking onto the boat, he'd surely be arrested and the word would spread far too quickly that he was in custody. That gave far too many opportunities for Hydra to find him.

It seems he had one last, desperate option.

A few nights in the back alley of a shady bar in the side of town that police didn't care about seemed to do the trick, earning him just enough to get on the ship and some extra change left over for food and clothing to disguise himself. He could ignore the ache in his used body and the slimy feeling in his chest. He did what he had to do.

He could barely remember doing it.

Besides, it's not like he hadn't used his body to succeed in missions before...

With a quick trip to a nearby clothing store, gathering a change of clothes and some sunglasses, he made his way to the port. Getting on the ship was surprisingly easy, all things considered. With a quick explanation of metal implants in his body, he was able to pass through the metal detectors, the contents of his bag still in tact as it passed through security. He could hear the little bear in his bag whimpering in fear, unsure of the current surroundings.

He was going insane.

With that, he was on his way home.

That was twelve days ago.

He didn't expect a vacation cruise liner to be so crowded. The fool he was.

A trip across the Atlantic Ocean to Fort Lauderdale was set for fourteen nights. He thought he could easily handle keeping under wraps and avoiding interactions for that long.

He was so, so _wrong._

The cruise was family-friendly, meaning children were running around everywhere and making an absolute ruckus. He also only had enough money for one meal a day, leaving him hungrier than he started with how quickly his body digested and burned calories. He was exhausted and constantly paranoid that he would be seen by someone on the ship that would recognize him, leaving him unable to sleep or focus.

It was just his luck that the stress of hiding in such a crowded environment caused him to feel so small and weak, like the damn bear in his bag was in his brain, or like he was in the toy's head.

Bucky- or Winnie, he couldn't tell or give a shit anymore- whimpered as he laid his head on the table he was sitting at. His stomach was growling loud enough to be heard at _least_ two tables over and his head was pounding as the thrum of people around him invaded his sensitive ears. He groaned quietly as a particularly hard wave gently swayed the boat, making his empty stomach lurch painfully in his guts. He tried to cover his ears, his head nearly splitting at the seams as a screaming child ran past him, the footsteps echoing his increasing heart rate. His leg bounced against the floor, his hand tapping against the table in a desperate bid to calm himself.

It was all in vain.

So there he was, starving in the middle of a horribly loud cruise ship, his skin prickling every time he felt eyes rake over his skin.

He was exhausted.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to ease the awful pressure behind them, leaving his sensitive ears to ring with each little voice his brain picked up on. He nearly jumped out of his skin as a child yelled behind him, making him curl up on himself.

He couldn't move.

He felt like his spine was a live wire, expecting a strike against his skin at any given moment. He ground down against a scream boiling in his lungs, biting down against his metal hand. That only resulted in an awful grinding feeling in his skull, his implanted teeth reacting to the metal like a microphone screaming from speaker feedback. He pulled his hand away, instead digging his fingers into his scalp and pulling on his hair, the dull pain providing minimal comfort to his distressed psyche.

What could he do? He couldn't move, and he'd get beat for screaming. He had no options.

He ground his teeth, laying his head on the table and covering his ears in a desperate, futile attempt to quell the wildfire burning in his chest. Had the fire always been there? Was it ever truly put out?

He stifled a whimper as his brain throbbed in his skull, trying so hard to be good. Who was he trying to be good for?

The unwanted thought of an unforgiving hand smacking his bottom made him involuntarily jump, trying to squirm away from something that wasn't there. He bit back another scream as it clawed the inside of his throat, stifling the noise by shoving his flesh hand against his lips. He couldn't scream. He would be so _bad_ if he screamed. If he screamed, Hydra would find him and drag him back home and his Daddy would give him a reason to scream.

He didn't want to be punished.

He kept his head down, using one arm to cover his ears while the other muffled the aborted shrieks with every throb of his head, every painful pulse in his ears. His leg continued to bounce under the table, completely out of his control. He could feel hot tears burning his skin as they escaped his eyes, his brain having no choice but to get out its frustration in the form of that awful, manipulative, chemical release.

He held his breath, stifling every sob that wracked his shoulders with both hands over his mouth, the hunger in his stomach stabbing through his body as every little sound pierced his eardrums. He pressed his hands tighter over his nose and mouth, breathing in through his fingers.

It felt like his muzzle.

He carefully sucked down another breath, keeping his eyes screwed shut as he tried desperately to tune out the world around him. He could feel cold air rush into his lungs, seemingly resetting the error in his program. He could feel his body releasing its tension, though that didn't make the ache in his head disappear. If anything, his head felt foggy, like the world around him was far away yet all too close.

He felt himself stand from the table on shaky legs, walking blind towards his room, like a puppet on strings swayed by that of which he could not see.

He could sleep off the hunger. They would be docking soon enough.


	6. Present Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was standing in the middle of the bread aisle, the lights directly overhead shining like penlights into his eyes after the chair, the static trill of modern pop songs playing quietly over the loud speaker clawing at his ears, the smell of plastic and food and floor cleaner and artificial air burning his corrupted lungs.
> 
> "Buck? You okay?" Sam asked, his voice fairing no better than Steve's.

"Bucky? You alright, pal?" Steve's soft voice ground against his sensitive ear drums.

Bucky whimpered as his head throbbed, an all too familiar and terrifying feeling. The flourescent lights were blinding and buzzing and the last staticy call of a woman's voice over the loudspeaker set him off.

Sam and Steve decided a quick trip to the supermarket was a good idea, an excuse to get out of the tower and walk around somewhere that was air conditioned. They decided a quick trip for some basic supplies and food for meals throughout the week was in order.

That was three hours ago.

Bucky wasn't sure how the hell they managed to spend three hours in a goddamn store, what with the detour of Jamesy touring the toy aisles no less than five times and the Soldier demanding a trip to the hunting supply aisle to stare at guns he wasn't allowed to buy. All he knew was his head was hurting, his blood was starting to boil, and that terrifying, familiar spark had ignited in his chest.

He was standing in the middle of the bread aisle, the lights directly overhead shining like penlights into his eyes after the chair, the static trill of modern pop songs playing quietly over the loud speaker clawing at his ears, the smell of plastic and food and floor cleaner and artificial air burning his corrupted lungs.

"Buck? You okay?" Sam asked, his voice fairing no better than Steve's.

"Mhhph." Bucky ground out, his jaw set tight as his fists clenched at his side, his shoulders hunched up in preparation for a blow that was bound to strike at any moment. He kept his eyes screwed shut, praying his face didn't betray the exhausted, overwhelmed pain he was feeling.

He could feel Sam and Steve's eyes on him, raking over his skin, thinking of all the ways they could punish him for his insolence. He bit against a gasp, his spine straightening out as invisible prods jabbed into his back.

"Bucky, do you need to go home?" Steve asked, his voice far too kind and understanding. It had to be a trick. The moment he opened his eyes the two men would grab his wrists and drag him to the ground and rip his clothes away and swat at his skin until he bled, right in the middle of the store for everyone to see and laugh at and join in on.

" _No._ " He ground out, swallowing against a scream that tore at his throat, biting down against his lip to try and redirect the pain in his blood.

He could feel eyes all over him.

"Bucky, Sam's gonna go pay for the stuff. I'm gonna stay right here with you, okay?" Steve said softly. "I'm not gonna touch you unless you ask me to."

Bucky wasn't falling for his tricks. He knew the moment he showed how weak and vulnerable he was, the man would strike like a coiled snake. He could hear footsteps walking away, the sound adding to the grinding feeling in his ears.

"Buck, I know you're scared," Steve kept his voice quiet and clear. Bucky could tell the man wasn't looking at him, not feeling eyes over his skin for once. "It's gonna be okay. No one's gonna hurt you. Do you think you can walk with me to the bathroom to get away from the noise?"

Bucky tried to get his brain to focus on the words, his body shuttering as a spark shot through his spine. He shook his head, his brain throbbing with each little shake. "N'oh."

"Okay, that's okay. It's no problem." Steve reassured. "I'm going to sit on the floor, do you think you can sit with me?" He listened as the man's body settled on the floor. He gulped against a threatening scream as he carefully lowered himself to the floor, pulling his knees close to his chest, pressing his knee caps into his eyes. "There you go, Buck. You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you, no one's gonna hurt you."

He jumped hard as he heard footsteps walking closer, gasping as his blood spiked.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay buddy. It's just Sam." Steve reassured. He listened as the other body settled a few feet away from him, the other man's familiar scent soothing his frayed nerves.

"It's okay, buddy. We're right here for you. I want you to focus on my voice, okay?" Sam explained, slow and clear. "I'm gonna count, and I want you to try and breathe along with me. Do you think you can do that?"

Bucky nodded, his head still pressed against his knees. He listened as the man carefully counted up to four, inhaling deep with each second. He held his breath as his boyfriend counted to seven, before slowly exhaling as the soothing voice counted to eight. He followed these simple instructions at least a dozen time, feeling the simple pattern and reassurance from his two loves wash over him like cool water soothing over a burn.

For the first time that he could remember, the wildfire in his chest had been controlled, the flames safely snuffed out.

He sniffled against a frightened tear as he lifted his head, seeing the two men smiling softly.

"There you go, you did so well." Sam hummed, holding his hand out. Bucky carefully took his hand into his own, fingers stroking over soft, warm skin. He let his metal hand slip into Steve's hand as well, the two close enough to protect him but not enough to suffocate him.

"Do you feel any better?" Steve asked, earning a nod. He _did_ feel better, the throbbing pain in his head now just a dull pulse, the ringing in his ear slowly dissolving into the sound of the world around him. "That's good, you did perfect. Let get you home to rest, okay?"

Bucky wiped at his tears before nodding, a watery smile playing across his features. He carefully pulled the two men into a hug, nuzzling his face into their shoulders. He hummed as he felt warm, strong arms wrap around his body, pulling his frightened, fragmented soul back together in his slowly calming body. He stood on shaky legs as his boyfriends helped him from the floor, letting him walk a few feet between them. He didn't remember much of the ride home, finding himself snuggled between his two best men on the couch, the apartment quiet save for their combined breathing. He hummed softly, nuzzling his cheek against Sam's neck, stroking a free hand over Steve's arm across his belly.

For the first time he could remember, he felt safe with arms wrapped around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Any behaviors related to Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency or Dissociative Identity Disorder within this story are based on **personal experiences** and are not a scientific basis or professional explanation for either DID systems or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency. No two people, let alone no two systems, are exactly the same.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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